Don't Ask, Don't Tell (Grizzly Bear's Cherry Wine)
by Icy Earth
Summary: Luke had told him to play, goddamnit, he's too good to waste his talent behind closed doors. Grizz has always listened to Luke. Luke's the quarterback, after all.


The smoke from the fire isn't drifting in the direction it should. The town was in the Northern Hemisphere, with the Atlantic ocean to the east. The smoke should go southwest. Instead it goes straight up. No one gathered is complaining, two days in the woods make them smell bad enough without smoke stains on their clothes. Grizz is sitting on his sleeping bag near the strung up foodbox, his book in his hand, but the words are almost swimming off the page. Bean is already in her tent with Gwen, working on their route for tomorrow and giggling the entire time. The remaining party members are sitting around the fire, roasting hotdogs for dinner. It feels… peaceful, in a convoluted way. The most peaceful Grizz has felt since the smell, because regardless of if they might starve to death or not, they're okay for now.

His guitar lies, unplayed, by his partially set up tent. He hadn't wanted to bring it, but Luke had thrown it at him at the last second and left him very little choice. Grizz made a point of only playing it the woods. Whenever he went to stay with Luke's family in their cabin by the lake in the summer, he'd play every song he's written over the school year. It was a tradition Grizz can't really carry on when Luke's whole family is gone and the road to the lake is gone with them. Luke had told him to play, goddamnit, he's too good to waste his talent behind closed doors.

Grizz has always listened to Luke. Luke's the quarterback, after all.

So he starts on the long process of setting up his tent, mind made up. After dinner, he'll play a song he's had swimming in his head since Sam.

Gwen knocks Bean over by accident, starting a roar of giggles from the tent, at around the same time dinner is announced. Grizz finishes staking and wanders over to the fire. No harsh winds or clouds in the sky mean a leisurely setup in fine, and Grizz has rarely been more thankful. He snags his guitar with his left hand by the neck on the way, setting it on the ground beside him a safe distance back.

Wordlessly, a hotdog is passed to him, along with a slice of cheese and a handful of blackberries picked along the trail. It's delicious, but Bean is staring at him weird.

"What?" Grizz questions her around a mouthful of food. Screw manners, he's _hungry_.

"Do you actually play guitar?" Bean tilts her head to the side as she asks, and everyone else is listening to their conversation with burning intent.

"...yeah?"

"I thought you brought it for aesthetic value, I won't lie," Bean admits.

"Play us something!" Gwen playfully demands, jostling him lightly from around Bean. Grizz has already scarfed down the rest of his hotdog, and he licks his fingers clean, smiling at Gwen over the top of Bean's head. He twists and grabs the instrument, spinning it into playing position. He knows the tunning's perfect, but he 'checks' it anyway, and experimentally tries the chords he has floating in his head. It sounds exactly how he wanted it to.

Gwen is looking at him in quiet aw.

"Sing," She prompts softly.

'_Her eyes and words are so icy_

_Oh but she burns_

_Like rum on the fire_

_Hot and fast and angry as she can be_

_I walk my days on a wire' _Everyone is silent for a moment, until a handwave goes around the group that couldn't mean 'more' anymore clearly if they'd shouted it.

'_It looks ugly, but it's clean,_

_Oh momma, don't fuss over me_

_The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine_

_Open hand or closed fist would be fine_

_The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine_

_Calls of guilty thrown at me_

_All while she stains_

_The sheets of some other_

_Thrown at me so powerfully_

_Just like she throws with the arm of her brother_

_But I want it_

_It's a crime_

_That she's not around most of the time_

_The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine_

_Open hand or closed fist would be fine_

_Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine_

_Her fight and fury is fiery_

_Oh but she loves_

_Like sleep to the freezing_

_Sweet and right and merciful_

_I'm all but washed_

_In the tide of her breathing_

_And it's worth it, it's divine_

_I have this some of the time_

_The way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine_

_Open hand or closed fist would be fine_

_The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine'_

No one asks who it's about, and Grizz doesn't tell them.

He doesn't have to.


End file.
